Page 123 of Feral

Lowell and Liam both bared their teeth, their claws extending to an alarming length.

“I’ll rip ya apart ya traitor!” Lowell howled.

“Stop,” Imogen ordered and turned to her new mate. “I ask, as a matin’ gift to me, that ya spare him. He should face justice from both clans.”

Angus, who had pulled Imogen tight against him when Ruben had shown up, nodded.

“So be it. Lock him up in the cell and use the spelled manacles.”

Lowell and another Were I didn’t recognize managed to subdue Ruben, who howled and foamed at the mouth as he was dragged away.

“You have a cell?” I asked Fraser.

“Oh aye, we can’t have mundanes lockin’ us up. That would be a disaster,” he sniffed at my hair, tail swinging low and somehow I knew that meant he was worried. “Are ya alright?”

“I think so. The way it reacted was very unexpected.”

“Ya should sit down, rest.”

“No, I have to call this in and get the artifact in one of the containment boxes. The agents should be here sometime soon but I still need to tell the Director that we were successful.”

Fraser frowned at me, obviously unhappy that I wasn’t doing as he wanted.

I smiled up at him and pulled him down so I could plant a little kiss on his snout.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise.”

“And in the mean time brother,” Angus said, glaring at me, “ya can tell me why ya thought it would be alright to lie to me about yer mate, if that’s really what she is.”

Fraser bared his teeth at his older brother and snarled at him.

“Play nice,” I whispered.

“Not a chance if he’s goin’ to make me give ya up.”

Those words sent warmth blooming in my chest and I gave him a swift hug before making my way to the house. The Werewolves I passed were talking about what happened, about Ruben and the Golden Apple and what it meant. More than a few stared at me, and the looks weren’t all that friendly. I realized then that clan MacDonald wasn’t the only one to have faced harsh treatment at Francesca’s hands. I hoped that what I’d done here today would show them that the new Secret Archive could be trusted.

The house was empty when I got to it, everyone outside and likely already starting in on the cases of whiskey that had been delivered yesterday. I hurried through the entry way and toward the stair case when rough hand seized me from behind, clamping a hand over my mouth. I struggled against the arms that held me in place but it was no use.

A familiar laugh reached my ears and my stomach plumetted to my toes.

The director had said that we had a mole, I just never thought my uncle would be that stupid.

“I did warn you Daft-ne dear, did I not?” my uncle said, flanked by a man in a balaclava and black tactical gear. “A new order is coming, and you will not be needed. But I do thank you for doing all the hard work for me, once again.”

He plucked the bag from my hands and I struggled to get free. I had the gloves in my purse but my hands were pinned. If I could just get a little bit of room to move…

I bit the fingers over my mouth, hard enough to draw blood. The man holding me screamed in pain and I was able to move my arm just enough to dig into my purse and grab one glove. Hoping it would work just by holding it, I swung up at his face. The satisfying crunch of his nose made me smile and I slipped the glove the rest of the way onto my hand.

“You are such a bother!” Uncle George screamed, and leveled a gun at me.

I didn’t have time to react when he fired. The bullet hit me center mast and the impact forced all the air from my chest but it didn’t make it through the bustier. I coughed and gasped, desperate to draw in some air and immensely grateful that the bullet proof part of the bustier hadn’t been attached to spell work. When I looked up, uncle George was staring at me in shock.

“How…? It doesn’t matter. The Archive is finished.”

“You’re a traitor,” I hissed at him as I got to my feet and slid the other glove onto my hand.

“Maybe, but I’m not like you.”

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